Summary: A young cadet bound forthe Vietnam warfalls in love with a waitress at a canteen in a small town before he leaves. BBxT. Based on the song by the Dixie Chicks.

Author's Note: Now before you take out your torches and pitchforks and turn on me for writing a BBxTerra story, let me explain. I wanted to test my writing ability and how durable there characters can actually be. I don't want to be pigeonholed into being a purely BBxRae writer though that is my preferance, I don't want my bias to get in the way of my writing.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Teen Titans or Travelling Soldier by the Dixie Chicks

The sun sat heavily on the horizon, its wide frown threatening to sink away into the darkness. And he sat there, still waiting. Watching as the dying light gave way its last ounces of energy to paint the majestic sky. He had just turned 18 and sat on a round rusting oil barrel waiting for the bus, his crisp green army uniform, void of ornamentation, giving away his inexperience. Standing he grabbed hold of his black duffel and made his way into the canteen behind him.

She'd been watching him; all day in fact, that's how long he'd been waiting. Smiling she grabbed a plate of salad and tossed it in front of a greasy looking trucker, giving him a playful wink. He knew her father. She dealt with them all day, truckers, nomads, wanderers, travelers. That's all you would get out here. You could only hear of the adventures they brought here with them, little pieces of lives. The kind she wanted to lead, but here you only listen.

She gave him a grin as the boy in the army greens walked into the canteen, his bulky black duffel slung over his shoulder. He took off his hat and threw the duffel on a seat beside him and sat down, elbows propped, shoulders leaning forward, on the yellowing counter-top. She'd seen him come in 'round noon time. He was wasting his time, the army buses didn't come 'til 10.

"What'll you have?" She asked leaning on the counter across from him, beaming him an irresistible smile.

He gave a smile back, "What's good?"

"The pie," she said, pushing herself off the counter and reaching through the kitchen window to grab a plate. Pumpkin, with whipped cream on top. She gladly placed the pie in front of him and plopped a fork down, "Enjoy, sir," and walked away.

He watched as she tended to other customers. Regulars perhaps, something about the way they treated her. He kept his green eyes locked on her as she'd flirtingly flip her long blonde hair aside, occasionally stopping to re-fix the butterfly clip in her hair. Her smile brightening up the room with genuine affection and a hint of humour.

She came by to grab his plate when he stopped her, resting a gentle hand on her wrist. She looked up in shock but didn't pull away; instead she looked into his eyes. The soft greenness of them seemed to fade away in sadness, his eyebrow turned up, pleading. She wasn't afraid; those eyes weren't something to be afraid of.

"Would you mind sitting down for a while and talking to me? I'm feeling a little low." He was pleading with her. She wanted to say no, she should've said no. But his eyes had caught her and she couldn't. Glancing at the clock, 8:15, she rested her other hand on top of his, giving him that gentle smile again.

"I'll be off in 10; I know somewhere we can go."

They sat in an old Ferris Wheel seat on the pier not two minutes away from the canteen. Its once vibrant colours now faded, its paint peeling off uncovering browning rust underneath. The tall blades of grass growing around them tickling their arms, the placid hum of the dragonflies providing serenity. The sun was nearly down now; there remained a small wisp of something past the water. A thin line of light as if there was a living city out there, bright and vibrant, somewhere, far away from here.

"I'm sure you've got a boyfriend but I don't care. I've got no one to send a letter to." Not once did he look at her. He would just watch as the sun slowly gave in, until now that it had slowed down so much it's as if they were frozen in time. But she would steal glances of him, out of the corner of her eyes.

Suddenly he turned and looked at her, right in her blue eyes, "Would you mind if I sent one back here to you?"

She gave him a smile, that slow easy smile, and looked down at his hand shyly resting on his hip and took it her own. And nodded. He gave her a smile back and turned just in time to see the last dying light of the sun snuffed out by some invisible black hand.

And the letters came.

From and army base in California, in Guam, in Vietnam. He told her of his heart, he told her of his fears.

"When it's getting rough over here, I think of that day sitting down on the pier and I close my eyes and see you pretty smile."

She would anticipate his letters, eagerly waiting by the mailbox for them every week. He was her link, from here to there. She was his hope, from there to here. They held onto each other, if only through those letters. When they came, she would slowly open each one, careful not to disturb its envelope. She kept them under her bed and read them when she was alone, running her fingers over the words, picturing him sitting there writing. Waiting for the time that the letters said, "a soldier's coming home."

"I think it may be love," he once said. She didn't tell him she thought so too.

"Don't worry but I won't be able to write for a while."

One Friday, as the sun was setting again, leaving behind its trails of orange and red in the sky. She stood listening to the radio, watching as her father's friends ate their pies. She smiled in remembrance, he liked the pie here. Suddenly the announcer's voice came on:

"Folks, would you bow your heads," the national anthem played behind him, "for a listed local, Vietnam vet."

The sun had begun to set again, its orangey glow casting long shadows of trees behind the trees. The darkness would win, they knew that now. No matter how long time would stop, it would have to start again and when it did, the light would die. His funeral was short, no one cared. There was a pastor, a piccolo player and a pretty blonde girl with a butterfly clip in her hair.

She stood and watched as his coffin was lowered into the cold soil. A tear rolled down her cheek as she read the markings on his headstone, "Here lies a soldier." That's all that would be remembered of him, a soldier forever, in stone.

A/N: The ending was abrupt but I got carried away in the duality of the sun. I really liked this song and as I listened to the lyrics I immediately thought BBxT, but if you're so completely against this pairing you can either flame me, write a better story or, sinceI didn't name names, just block out the word "blonde" and all other images of any sort of BBxT pairing.

Next up, either RobxRae or RobxStar...hmm...

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